


Meteors

by LadyStark28



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 19:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12019779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyStark28/pseuds/LadyStark28
Summary: Wesley makes Will realize how much he really doesn't want to end up like his father.





	Meteors

**Author's Note:**

> After diving into the TNG and Harry Potter fanfiction treasure trove, I've finally decided to be brave and post a teeny ficlet of my own. I don't have a beta and I haven't written for pleasure in quite a while, so ANY comments are very much appreciated! Seriously, feel free to be harsh; it felt great to write again and I really want to improve! 
> 
> The mature rating is only for language. There is a slight hint of a possible future Wesley/Riker relationship, but only if you use your imagination. Thank you so much for reading my work!

Shipmates had used many varied and often colorful words to describe Will Riker, but the word gentle was not one of them. Will could be tireless, impulsive (particularly earlier in his career), fiercely loyal, obstinate and arrogant (the last descriptor being at least partially a facade and also tempered with age). He was not ever, however, _gentle_ ; not with himself, his peers, his subordinates or his lovers, and certainly not with Kyle, who would have considered it the height of humiliating weakness to be gentle with his own son.

Will took it as an immense point of pride that he could stand toe-to-toe with Worf in the training arena. He could dispatch any enemy combatant with a ruthlessness and cunning that earned praise even from the normally tacit security chief. It was also from Worf, however, that he earned another adjective, after a seemingly innocuous exchange with their youngest bridge crew member.

“You are too _gentle_ with Ensign Crusher, Commander.” Worf spit out the word like it was an obscenity. Will knew immediately that Worf was referring to the alpha shift earlier that day. It clearly had been bothering him, causing an uncomfortable, almost hostile silence as they rode the turbolift together to the arena. Will was aware that this was Worf being concerned, and while he respected his security chief immensely and valued his opinion, he didn't give a damn what anyone had to say on this particular topic. Wesley was _his_ to take care of, and Will chuckled to himself as he replayed the conversation with the young ensign in his mind, earning a derisive “hmph” and a steely glare from Worf.

“Commander?” Wesley spoke up as soon as the Captain marched stiffly into his ready room after a terse conversation regarding some “compulsory guests” of the Andrada who also happened to be Federation citizens. His voice echoed through the quiet bridge, bright and inquisitive, a small prismatic streak through the gray, stolid air. Inwardly, Will repressed a grimace. _How do I explain a hostage situation to a sheltered 16-year-old?_ He managed to mask his hesitation before he remembered that Wesley was not as sheltered and innocent as he seemed, and had in fact been a hostage himself, once to a race of sex-obsessed fascists and again to a batshit-crazy android.

Rising from the center seat, Will strode quickly to his young helmsman and knelt at Wesley's console. “Yeah, Wes?” he replied, with his patented grin and a cheerfulness he wasn't particularly feeling.

Wesley's answering grin made something twitch in Will's granite heart, a tiny spark that he quickly folded away beneath his screwed-up, stern, First-Officer-of-the-Fucking-Flagship mien. Wesley wasn't fooled, or maybe he was just too distracted to care.

“Look what I found!” he pointed excitedly to a section of the console that usually charted their position, but now appeared to show a ringed planet several days' travel away. Will allowed himself a silent sigh of relief that Wesley's query seemed unconnected to the hostages. The commander's knees and neck started to protest his current position, forcing him to heave to his feet and lean precariously over Wesley's slight frame. “The DeGrasse-Tyson meteor shower! It's passing through the Piscium system and we're supposed to be going near there for our next mission so I thought maybe we could ask the captain if we can adjust the route because I've already done the calculations and we'd still get to Deep Space 5 in plenty of time and the view would be _incredible_!” Wesley's voice broke at the end of his breathless declaration, earning a barely-muffled snort from his commanding officer.

Instantly, a splash of red flamed across the young ensign's face. _Youngest in the Fleet_ , Will reminded himself. _Younger than I was when_...well, it didn't really matter what Will had or hadn’t done at Wesley's age. He couldn't have been trusted to drive a landspeeder responsibly, much less a starship. Entirely unbidden, the question of how Kyle would have handled a situation like this slithered into the back of Will's skull. The elder Riker would tell Wesley to stop daydreaming and just do his job. He would tell him he was just a kid, and he should know his place. He would tell him the flagship had more important things to do than indulge a childish fancy for the fucking view, and if Wesley couldn't follow orders and keep his mouth shut then he could go back to the civilian side of the ship where he belonged.

Will looked at Wesley's abashed face, watched him swallow reflexively and cast his eyes down toward his console, but not before Will could read the remorse and self-recrimination in them. In an inward flash of past-adolescent petulance, Will shoved all thoughts of Kyle back into the dark drawer of his mind marked “Dad Issues” and tossed the key onto a high shelf. Then and there, Will decided that his most important responsibility was safeguarding that look of wonder in Wesley's bright hazel eyes, and he'd beat the shit out of anyone who threatened that, even his own stupid self.

Over the dull ache in his knees, Will once again lowered himself in front of his young charge. “It sounds amazing, Wes,” he murmured, stretching his neck to peek into Wesley's still-downcast face. Wes caught his eye and Will felt his own mouth mirroring Wesley's as the teen fought back a smile. “I'll bring it to the captain's attention,” Will dropped his voice to a stage whisper, “once he's in a better mood.” Feeling uncharacteristically silly, Will rolled his eyes toward the closed door of the ready room. “I think now might be a bad time.”

Wesley let out a quiet laugh that made Will wonder why there wasn't more laughter on the bridge – _Because it's inappropriate and unprofessional! - Shut up, Kyle_. Will clapped his young friend tenderly on the shoulder and returned to the center seat, humming a jazz tune to himself. And if he noticed a rather frosty look from the large Klingon standing just over his shoulder, he brushed it aside. He'd gladly take a fractious beating in the arena from Worf later if it meant making Wesley’s face glow with happiness now.


End file.
